


Paradise

by writesthrice



Category: Far Cry 3
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, M/M, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-16 16:29:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2276670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writesthrice/pseuds/writesthrice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason hunts demons for a living (not really; the pay is shit) and has caught wind of a little pair of islands with some psychotic trouble. He figures some fuck-up demon and a pal or two are tearing shit up, so he goes to take care of the little problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome To

Jason knew there was a God. Knew it. Not the way most people knew it, with belief and hope, but with the surety of one who knew fire was hot because he’d been burned. Fire was an adequate simile; fuck if he knew of anything more similar to God. It was one of the many things that Man had got wrong, that God had made them in His own image. It was just pure ego, that belief. 

God made the sun dim the same way the sun made a candle dim. There was a reason most who actually saw Him went stark fucking raving mad. Prophets in padded rooms. Some kind of great fucking joke. Ha ha.

Jason wasn’t mad, though. He’d been careful. He wasn’t after a brief glimpse of the man upstairs, nor was he looking to chase after old Lucy downstairs. It might be better to rule in Hell than serve in Heaven, but that was a throne reserved only for the Horned One himself. And Hell was no place to rule, either. He’d know, having dropping in, every now and then, after this demon or that one.

He killed them. Demons. Among other evils things that bled over into the human world. He chased them all over, listened for the tiniest whispers and ripples, following wherever he must. He’d faced pretty much every kind of evil creature that one could think of; had scars enough to prove it, too.

But the thing standing in front of him was no simple demon. The rational part of his brain saw a man, a little on the short side, dark haired, mohawked, Hispanic, goateed, and crazy as a mother fucker, but a man, nonetheless. The more primitive bit of his brain saw what no one else could: this Vaas had wings. Powerful, flowing, frightening things of burning darkness, they sprung from his shoulders and fluttered with his agitation, flared wide in echo of his arms as he gestured. He had wings.

Vaas was screaming at him, angry. “I don’t like. The way. YOU ARE LOOKING AT ME.” Spittle flew, and Jason tried to pull away, to get away. He’d come here expecting some shitty little demon and a pal or two tearing shit up, but what was standing in front of him, angry, beautiful, and terrifying was one of Lucifer’s own. A Fallen Angel.

Jason whimpered. Actually whimpered. Dark, dark eyes locked on his face, that angelic face tipped to one side, and that full mouth turned into a slow smile. “You little shit.” Vaas’s voice was full of admiration. “You can see me.” He laughed, a frightening and harsh bark of humorless sound.

The angel grabbed Jason’s shoulders, leaning down to close the space between them, foreheads pressing together. Darkness opened behind him, curled around them both to create a semblance of privacy. “Jason. You are so fucked.”


	2. Another Day In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just another day in paradise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case any of you missed it, here's Vaas with his wings: http://jaedragonartorner.tumblr.com/post/97512535632/vaas-as-a-fallen-angel-based-off-this-fic <3

Angels. Beings of pure, raw power. 

Beautiful from head to toe. Elegant in every slope and line of body. Predatory. 

Oh, yes, Vaas was all of those things. He was evocative of a big cat, strong muscles sliding beneath his skin with his every movement, eyes half lidded, deceptively at ease, ready to spring into action at a breath. 

Jason looked him over carefully, wary. A sleeveless red shirt clung to his body, outlining the angles of his body instead of covering them, and he wore loose-fitting camo pants; army-issue, if Jason was any judge. Guns gleamed dully from well-muscled hips and there were knives tucked into hidden sheathes and his boots, if one knew what to look for.

Jason's eyes kept returning to the guns. There wasn't a reason between Heaven and Hell for this angel to carry such human weaponry. Except for the pleasure of it.

He caught the angel’s eyes. They were dark, swallowing the light, snuffing it out. 

Jason didn’t dare to look away. He could feel the assessment behind the gaze, the weighing of options, of choices. His future hung tantalizing in front of him: there, or not there? Not up to him.

Powerful hands cupped his face, thumbs rubbing roughly across his cheek bones. Vaas tilted his head, this way and that, gleefully savoring the American’s predicament. Jason had the distinct impression that the angel would enjoy whatever came next, though the look on his face was one of lustful anticipation. Shame made heat rush up his neck, making Jason grind his teeth, mouth twisting into a rough grimace, a growl rising unbidden from him like an animal. 

Vaas clicked his tongue at the demon hunter’s show of disrespect. “Don’t make me break your pretty face, hermano,” he admonished. He was close enough that Jason could smell him: blood and weed and brimstone.

Abruptly, he twisted in the angel’s grasp, not nearly strong enough to break away, but he was able to sink his teeth into one long finger, grinding his jaw down until blood was flooding his mouth and running down his chin.

Vaas didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away; he pressed his finger further into Jason’s mouth, hands still holding his head firmly in place, shoving into the human with ruthless cruelty, until he gagged hard. The angel’s face was impassive, watching. Jason was choking, tears slipping unbidden and unheeded down his face and across the angel’s skin, his vision going spotty around the edges, darkness pulsing at him in warning.

The angel let go, leaving the human to retch and gasp for air. "Made me bleed, you fuck," he growled softly, holding up the finger, his blood and Jason’s saliva slicking it and running slowly down his elbow. His dark eyes were steely and cold.

‘Kay. Jason thought groggily to himself. Don’t piss him off. Gotcha. He retched again, revulsion curling through him like smoke as blood trickled down the back of his throat.

Vaas laughed, a sudden, deep, inviting sound. Affectionate. “You. I like you.”

The human gaped up at Vaas, blinking in confusion at this abrupt change in tone. “What?”

The angel was grinning now, a knife palmed from his side glinting in the sunlight. He once more closed the distance between them. Jason tried not to flinch, expecting to feel the bite of the wicked blade.

“Look,” Vaas hissed between his teeth, thrusting the knife up so that his captive could see himself in the flat of it. 

Jason looked. He saw a man beaten, bruised, and afraid. He glared up at the angel, face twisting into a silent snarl. 

“Look harder, damn you!” The knife was thrust closer, the whole thing lit white with reflected sunlight, blinding. Jason’s eyes locked on it, unbidden, and he could see flames, could see himself surrounded by it, touched and licked by it, but unburned. His eyes widened, mouth gone slack as he stared at the vision of himself caressed by hellfire, a pair of powerful arms snaking around his waist and wings unfolding behind him as Vaas embraced him from behind.

The demon hunter blinked as the vision vanished, the knife flicked down to cut the bonds from his wrists. He stared, dumbfounded, at the angel’s calm face. He’d been propositioned at several different times by several different demons, and a pair of succubi at once that one time, but those were all meant as bribes, momentary favors to get him to leave them alone.

This was an invitation to the dark side.

Vaas’s smile was savage as he finished severing Jason’s ropes. The angel was waiting for an answer.


	3. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason answers Vaas's question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a looooooooong time coming, and I'm sorry it's been so long since I last updated anything. I've not had a computer for a while, and on top of that I've been pretty depressed lately. But, maybe things are looking up, and either way, have a Vaason update. ^^

Jason’s heart was beating hard, thundering against his ribs. He bolted. Just hauled the fuck out of there. Laughter, dark and insidious, chased him. He ran faster, heart so loud in his ears he couldn’t even hear his own harsh breathing. Tears streaked down his face: he was fucking terrified.

He could feel the moment the angel launched himself into the sky, a perceptible _whumph_ of displaced air tugging insistently at him, and he ran harder, feet pounding the earth until it hurt.

There was no outrunning that inexorable persona. A dark shadow fell over him, grew larger as the angel fell toward him. Jason spun on his heel, reaching for a weapon, any weapon, but Vaas was already on him, powerful arms snatching him and lifting him straight into the air, hands firm around his waist. The angel flew them up higher, whisking through the treetops in heart-stopping recklessness, wing tips brushing leaves of wind-whipped trees. Jason found himself clinging helplessly, face buried into the red shirt, teeth clenched to keep from screaming.

Vaas cleared the treetops and veered straight up, pumping his wings in powerful strokes to drive them higher, faster.

The angel burst into and then above the clouds with a violent flourish, the cold air misting around the heat of his wings. Jason was trembling against him, stunned into uncharacteristic silence by the very real possibility that Vaas would let him go, just to watch him fall. Terror was lacing his blood, a scream choking in his throat.

That voice of dark silk ghosted against his skin, dark head bent to whisper to Jason, mouth brushing his cheek, “Are you afraid, Jason?” The purr in his voice was amused. The angel’s lips turned up, pressed against him.

Jason shook his head, a silent denial, eyes still held tightly shut, face buried into the angel’s chest.

Vaas laughed, pressed a quick kiss to the top of Jason’s bowed head. “If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead.” Jason’s breath was short, his hands squeezing tighter onto Vaas’s body, legs wrapped around his waist and shamelessly clinging.

“Jason Brody,” the angel purred at him, “Killer of monsters, protector of men. I can feel your soul beneath your skin; you are a good man, kind and polite, just like your mother taught you. But I can taste the darkness there, that part of you that crawled up out of the ocean and never forgot the savagery. I know it’s there: embrace it!”

Jason was shivering against him, nothing to do with cold, bile in his throat. He was abruptly aware of their proximity, neck to waist fitted together and his ankles locked at the small of the angel’s back, an accidental parody of sex. Powerful hands curled around his hips, fingers slipping beneath his shirt to touch his bare skin, and the feel of that mouth once more against his neck, made him burn. He lifted his face from the angel’s shirt, looked directly into the angel’s face.

Vaas met his gaze, his eyes impenetrable orbs of darkness, and understanding passed between them in the silence between their next breaths. Jason would never bend his will to Vaas, or to anyone, and would not break, ever. But Vaas wasn’t asking him to. The angel smiled, a soft and gentle thing that lit him from within.

“I can show you things,” he murmured, enthralled. Humans, in his not-insubstantial experience, were creatures of either greed or good; the greedy were bent by cheap offers, and the good broken by threats to, not them, but the innocent or their loved ones. Easily, too. Jason’s mouth was set in a stubborn line. Somewhere, something had gone differently in this man, something that funneled that primal bit of him into goodness and away from darkness. The angel had been pressing against it since he realized Jason could see him, and had found this odd human’s evil side unreachable, and found him incorruptible.

He wanted that purity badly, wanted to taste it in Jason’s skin, touch that most mythic of things lost after the fall of Adam and Eve: real and true virtue.

And he’d break every rule he’d ever set for himself to get it.

Jason was staring at him. Softly, he asked, “What do you mean, show me things?”

Vaas leaned forward and caught the man’s lips with his own, dipped his tongue in to steal a taste, and left something there. It wasn’t tangible, but Jason felt it on his tongue anyway, a sharp stab that faded to a throb, eased to a calm weight. He glared at the angel, but didn’t protest when he leaned in again, murmuring softly to him, “Look,” his eyes flicking over Jason’s shoulder.

Jason tilted his face to see, and felt his heart stop. The setting sun was balanced on a point of clouds, looking all the world like it had been impaled there. Fire bled down and across from it, pooling around the base of its sacrificial point. Further away, the clouds were every shade between lapis blue and obsidian black. Jason leaned away from Vaas to get a better look, hands sliding down to cling tightly to the angel’s forearms. The harder he looked, the more he realized that it was not just clouds he was looking at. A tree, larger than any on earth, with tall twisting branches older than thought, reached upward, top far from sight. In its shade stood a massive structure, a hall unlike any ever built by man.

Vaas’s voice was once more whispering to him, “You can see it?”

Jason turned dazzled eyes back to the angel’s face, pulling his attention from the glory of the sun setting over this heavenly place. Vaas was pretty close to glorious himself, dark skin lit by the dying sun. From somewhere far away, Jason heard his own voice asking, shaking, “What is this place?”

Vaas tilted his handsome face, a half-smirk curling his mouth. “This is Asgard. Valhalla,” he murmured reverently.

Jason looked back at the tree, stomach dropping away. “The World Tree,” he whispered, awed.

“Yes. And the home of the _Valquiria_ ,” the angel added, eyes half-lidded and shining. “Can you feel the tug, deep in your guts? The Valkyries are creatures after your own heart, Jason the demon hunter, protector of innocents.” His voice was half sneer, half playful teasing, mocking and yet not at the same time. Somewhere in there was reverence.

“How?” he asked, breathless, eyes drawn back to that place of glory.

The angel laughed softly, a sound that brought Jason’s attention back to him. Amused, Vaas tilted his head, eyes going half lidded. “I gave you my name.”

“What?” Jason looked uncertain, knowing that the violent angel didn’t mean the name he called himself on earth.

“My true name, the name my very soul bears, is curled on your tongue. Can you taste it? The spice of my hatred, the sour of my madness, the sweet of my love? Can you taste the power I have given you?”

Jason rubbed his tongue along the roof of his mouth. The answer to all of those questions was, undeniably, yes, all that and so much more.

“Why?”

“You could do powerful things with an angel’s name, great and terrible things. Such gifts have rocked the world to its bones before. Names remembered for all time. Leonardo Da Vinci. Isaac Newton. Adolf Hitler.” The angel gave a shrug and flashed a brilliant smile. “You could use it for great good or great evil, but you won’t do either.”

“What makes you think that?” the human asked, mulling over the implications of great good. The taste of the name on his tongue pulsed in answer to him, ready to do his bidding. He shook his head in denial of his own question. The last name in Vaas’s brief list tempered him, and dying in obscurity had never been a fear of his. He smiled ruefully at the angel, amused at himself. “Maybe you’re right.”

“I’m always right, _amigo_ , never forget that,” Vaas smiled back.

Jason snorted, but didn’t bother arguing. He was thinking. Hard. Vaas’s smile faded at the serious look on the human’s face. “What?” he asked, softly.

“I just. I don’t know. I don’t get it. What do you _want_ from _me_?” Jason’s voice was just utterly bewildered. “Surely you can have anyone or anything you want. What the fuck can _I_ give _you_?”

Vaas’s lips turned up, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “No human has ever asked me what they could give me before they’d asked what I could give them. That’s all I need in the world. The last time someone asked me what I wanted, I didn’t have an answer, and neither did he. We waged a war and lost our places in Paradise for daring to want to know.” The angel’s voice dropped until it was nearly nothing, Jason leaning forward without realizing to catch every word, captivated. Vaas’s voice was a decadent growl, “I have my answer: I want the taste of you in my mouth.”

Jason thought his heart would explode from his chest, and he couldn’t quite breathe anymore. He closed the last millimeters between them, pressing his lips against the angel’s mouth in desperation. One of his hands trailed up, locking on the nape of Vaas’s neck and they pressed together like it would save them from drowning.

Maybe it would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've rewritten this like eighty thousand times, and this is definitely the best version of the chapter, but I still feel like the transition from Jason being repulsed by Vaas into being receptive to him is too abrupt. Is it just me? Hmmm.

**Author's Note:**

> All I want for Christmas is art of Vaas with wings.


End file.
